


Bleeding Out

by Withstarryeyes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Blood Loss, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), Hurt, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron) is a Good Boyfriend, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Love Confessions, M/M, Stab Wound, dizzy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 11:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16575464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: The knife slips between his ribs through the suit and it’s 25 seconds of blinding, white-hot pain before he’s on his knees panting. Sweat cradles his curves as it slides down and pools around his wrists, dangling on his fingers in teardrops.





	Bleeding Out

The knife slips between his ribs through the suit and it’s 25 seconds of blinding, white-hot pain before he’s on his knees panting. Sweat cradles his curves as it slides down and pools around his wrists, dangling on his fingers in teardrops. He coughs, blood splattering onto his lips and shuts his eyes, gritting his teeth. It’s still in there, he can feel the cool steel in his muscle and it bobs as he stands on knock-knee legs and clicking joints. He reaches his full height and opens his eyes, metallic blue harsh with fury. The Galra that attacked him has turned his back, tall, purple fur peeking out of his helmet. He thought he killed him, that the knife had done its job. But Lance is nothing but scrappy and he lugs his bayard back into his arms and fires into the soldier in front of him. 

The smoke that tendrils off of the Galra’s corpse is sadistically satisfying and Lance smirks as he slides to the ground, dead. Keith is standing there, then, just killed his own. He’s checking his six and smiles, bayard and dagger out. 

“Thanks, Lance,” he says and then turns. Lance winces, knowing just how this is going to go. He can feel the blood wetting his side and dripping on to the ground. His boots are slick with it, and his skin is rapidly dampening. The metal twang is almost too much and his stomach gives a sudden flip, uncomfortable warmth dispersing through him like ink in water. Lance’s knees give out right as Keith’s eyes meet his. 

They’re warm and bright and pink is pooling around his pupil. Lance doesn’t feel the ground, he can only feel his brain wash out as the knife moves, catching on his ribs and sliding just a little out of his flesh. His fingers are tingling and his vision comes back long before hearing. Keith is touching him, his hands warm and solid around Lance’s face. 

“Lance,” his hearing comes back all at once and he blinks long and slow up at Keith. 

“Here,” he says and smirks. The blood dribbled onto his chin is already dry and Lance feels it crack with his speech. It’s flaking off like grated cheese, sticking to his uniform. Keith is absolutely ruined with blood. He’s got a painted smear on his forehead and a thumbprint on his nose. 

“You’ve got blood on you,” Lance slurs and Keith pulls his eyebrows down. They’re gorgeous, fluffy and dense and black. Lance wants to kiss the pucker between them and trail down to Keith’s delicious lips. He always tastes like apples and mint. 

“Shut up,” Keith says but it’s soft, dangerously close to comforting, so Lance does and lets his eyes roll around. His vision is blurry again and he doesn’t bother to clear it. 

Pain erupts in his side and he screams, squirming, but the hands press down further. Keith is shushing him between sniffles and Lance is pretty sure he’s crying. He’d bet Cuba that he had never seen Keith cry before, and he never thought he would. Guess dying would do it.

“You’re not dying,” Shiro’s deep voice floats from beside his side and Lance sucks in a shaky breath. So he’d been thinking out loud, and Shiro’s the one causing the pain. 

“We have to get him back to the Lions, where’s Pidge?” Keith says, eerily calm, even though Lance can feel tears landing on his fingers, mingling with the sweat there. 

“Keith,” he waits until Keith focuses back on him, he can see little blots of purple in his shoddy vision, and he picks his hands up to slip a finger across Keith’s cheek. “I need to tell you something.”

“It can wait.”

“It can’t,” Lance stresses and struggles to sit up. Shiro presses him down with little effort. 

“Jesus Lance, stop doing that.” Blood is pumping up between Shiro’s fingers like a water fountain. 

“I have to say it,” his words are bleeding into one another almost as much as he is bleeding into Shiro. 

“You don’t,” Keith sobs, voice cracking and garbled. “I know, you idiot, I know. Now let us get you back.”

Lance shakes his head and strokes the dip between Keith’s jaw and neck. “I have to say it. I love you.”

Keith places his forehead against Lance’s and shakes his head. His fringe tickles Lance’s forehead. “Stop with the beside confessions. You’re going to make it.”

“Maybe,” Lance says. Shiro is carrying him now, sprinting across the base. Lance feels like he’s in a blender and he can’t orient anything anymore other than Keith’s lithe hand in his. “But I wanted you to know.”

“I do.” Keith says and Lance hears it from far away, already in a feathering world, shredding into pieces. 

Thick, dense weight and dull warmth echoes through his fingers like a whale call. The weight is light but concentrated and Lance twitches up into it, feeling it morph into something that is clutching his own. It’s a hand, Keith’s hand to be exact. He can feel the spiderwebbing scars from Keith’s obsessive knife cleaning. His head is still heavy and it throbs dully. He opens his eyelids and the world invades like a penlight. He licks his lips and tries again, the light blocked this time and he gets a halo of black, clean hair around him. 

“Kei--” he starts but suddenly his mouth is occupied and a hand is in his hair, pressing him back against the exam table. Keith’s tongue dances on Lance’s lower lip and Lance lets it dip in, arching across the roof of his mouth. He whimpers and whines and Keith pulls back, still close enough to block the light. His eyes are puffy and rough and his lips are nipped raw. 

“You lived you moron.”

“Did I? Because that kiss sure felt like heaven.” His smirk seeps on his face like a developing photograph and Keith rolls his eyes so hard Lance can see only the whites of them. He lets out a small laugh and is pleased to find he’s only sore. He starts to struggle up and Keith’s hands find his way to his back, propping him up and then swooping behind him to support him. Lance greedily leans back into the embrace, letting Keith’s warmth bake him like a sun-drunk cat. 

“Next time don’t waste your dying breath on love ballads.” Keith trails a lazy circle on the top of Lance’s shoulders. He shivers and nuzzles his face into Keith's chest, heaving a deep breath of musky warmth. 

“Can’t help it, it’s all I think about when I see you.”

Keith laughs, rough and low and a little pained and runs his hand through Lance’s hair. “Really ‘cause all I think when I see you is ‘boy is he a little shit’.”

“I’m your little shit.”

Keith presses a needy kiss to the crown of Lance’s head. “I know.” Because it’s unspoken between the two of them most of the time. It’s always there, nestled between their bodies or arching across their sparring space or bubbling out in the steam of their shower sessions. It’s never been questioned but Lance is nothing but a man of too many words and he’d be damned if he died just letting it be assumed. 

Keith keeps tracing shapes across Lance’s body and he lets himself fall asleep in Keith’s embrace, so less desperate and heartbreaking than before. Just before he drops off Keith repeats what he said right before Lance lost consciousness and he lets his last lucid act be clutching Keith’s hand. 

Because if Keith can say that he loves him, Lance can show Keith he does too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I know it has been a bit since I've written anything. With my creative writing class and final project for folklore, I have been spending a lot of time writing for school and I always find it tough writing both for school and for fun at the same time. So sorry if updates/new fics will be less frequent. That being said I hope you liked this and please leave a kudos or comment if you did/ if you want more Voltron fics.


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